


Next Year: Part 1

by wingedcatninja



Series: SPN Dean Bingo 2019 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, Butt Plugs, F/M, Femdom, Impact Play, Smut-adjacent, St. Andrew's Cross, Sub Dean, Sub!Dean, Submissive Dean Winchester, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2020, explicit - Freeform, no coitus in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcatninja/pseuds/wingedcatninja
Summary: For the past six years, Dean Winchester has come to see her once a year. This time, she has a new piece of furniture.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You
Series: SPN Dean Bingo 2019 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387618
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2020





	Next Year: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Dean Bingo, SPN Kink Bingo 2020, and @there-must-be-a-lock Lou’s 2K(inky) Celebration with prompt Impact Play. Set in season 14, post-Michael.
> 
> Square filled (SPN Dean Bingo): Vegas  
> Square filled (SPN Kink Bingo): St. Andrew's Cross
> 
> I apologize for nothing.

She spotted him immediately, leaning against the bar like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning. For a moment, she watched him, noting the tension in his back and shoulders. Briefly, she saw the memory of his younger version. Six years of whatever it was he did had affected him deeply. 

* * *

_She was the one to approach him. He was alone at the bar, nursing a glass of amber liquid, apparently just killing time. When she slid onto the stool next to him, he had glanced over and smiled at her. Professional or not, that smile affected her more than she was ready to admit even to herself. Coupled with the startling green of his eyes, it was a hell of a first impression. She had returned his smile, smoothly slipping back into her persona. They had ended up in his room. Once he fell asleep, she had slipped out, not even considering collecting her fee._

* * *

Their eyes met in the mirror that backed the bar and she felt her lips turn up into a genuine smile. Navigating the casino floor with the ease of familiarity, she was soon by his side. He had turned to greet her and she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“I’m glad you made it.” Her voice was as warm as her smile.

“Me too.” There was a dark undertone to his words that she chose to ignore. “Drink?”

“If you want,” she replied, “or we could just go?”

While Dean mulled over her words, she noted the new lines on his face; the shadows darkening his green eyes. She was still on her feet when he slid off the stool and scooped up his jacket. Once he had put it on, she laid her hand lightly on his arm, and he escorted her outside. When the valet brought his car, he helped her in and closed her door before rounding the hood to slide into the driver’s seat. He was always such a gentleman.

* * *

_She had been surprised to see him the second time. Just the sight of him, leaning against the bar, brought the memories back. A shiver went up her spine and she found herself almost irresistibly drawn to him. They had gone back to his room, but this time they spent a large portion of the night just talking. When they did get down to business, she found that her memories were only pale shadows of the real thing._

* * *

They drove in silence, Dean needing no directions this time. He parked in the back, and they went down the steps to her basement studio. Even while he appeared to wait patiently for her to unlock the door, she could feel the waves of tension coming off him. When she pulled the door open, he grabbed it and held it for her before following her inside. 

* * *

_The first time she brought him to her studio, he had been intrigued. The relatively small room was filled with all the trappings of her profession, including a comfortable bed. The bed was the only thing they had used that time, but he had let her cuff him to it and have her way with him. He had enjoyed it, a lot._

* * *

With her back to him, she slipped her shawl off her shoulders. Before it could fall on the floor, he caught it and deposited it on the small table. She took the few steps over to the closed door at the other end of her tiny foyer and turned to watch him.

He blinked when she turned, mentally shaking himself. He toed off his boots and hung his jacket on one of the coat hooks. It always felt weird for him to be in his socks with her. As if it made him more vulnerable. 

She reached behind her and opened the door, gesturing for him to precede her inside. For the past three years, this had been their ritual. He would enter the room and choose what he wanted while she watched. His eyes scanned the room, taking it all in in the space of a heartbeat. She knew when he spotted the new addition by the sound of his breath hitching. Taking that as her cue, she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. 

As she expected, Dean was only a couple of steps inside the room, stopped to stare at her new piece. The polished wood gleamed in the low light, the metal painted to blend in with the dark color of the wood. The touch of her hand at the small of his back made him flinch with surprise. 

“You like it?” There was no need to specify.

Dean nodded silently. As if the sound of her voice had released him from his frozen stance, he approached the cross. His fingers slid over the wood, caressing it. Clearly, he had made his choice.

* * *

_The next time she brought him there, he had gone to his knees after entering the room. With his eyes on hers and his hands behind his back, he had asked her to help him. He still would not tell her what he had been through, just that he needed help to find himself again. So that was what she did._

* * *

She watched him undress. It was always a high point, seeing his body gradually revealed. When he was naked, she beckoned him over and showed him where to set his feet. 

He leaned against the wood, eyes half-closed, feeling the smooth surface against his skin. It was an entirely new sensation, but one that he decided he enjoyed. Once she had secured the leather cuffs around his ankles, he obediently lifted his arms so she could secure his wrists as well. The smile she gave him caused a warm feeling to spread outward from his chest.

The cuffs fit snugly, holding him in place. She knew now that it was something he craved, to feel securely restrained and helpless. His muscles tensed when he tested the restraints, the sight sending a frisson of pleasure through her body. She stepped in close to him, her body pressed right up against his, the flimsy fabric of her dress the only thing between them. Her lips pressed against his skin, causing goosebumps to erupt wherever she touched him. Her soft voice assured him that he was safe; that she would take care of him. She felt him relax.

Letting her hands roam, she felt his muscles move underneath the freckled expanse of skin in response to her touch. She dragged her nails down his back. When her hands reached the swell of his buttocks, she turned them to cup each cheek, kneading the flesh. A small moan fell from Dean’s lips, his body responding. 

She had never explored anal play with Dean before, but from his reaction, it seemed like he would be open to it. Playing it by ear, she spread his cheeks and brushed a finger lightly over his puckered muscle. Dean made a sound deep in his throat that was impossible to misinterpret. He was definitely open to this. Moving around him, she opened a box and showed him the contents. 

The outside of the box looked inconspicuous enough, simple wood without decorations or writing. The inside was divided into smaller compartments, like a toolbox, or tackle box. Each small compartment held an anal plug. There were different sizes, shapes, colors, materials. Dean blinked at the collection. He watched her hand hover over the many options before settling on one. When she pulled it out, he saw it was a mottled jade green color with a wide flared base. To his eyes, it looked gigantic, but he had to assume that was because he knew where it was meant to go. 

Seeing the apprehension in his eyes, she moved in to place a light kiss on his lips. 

“It’s ok, baby. I got you. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” The words were warm breaths against his face and he relaxed into her touch.

She let him see her cover the plug with lube until it glistened in the low light of the room. Coating two of her fingers as well, she moved back behind him. Stroking gently, she coated his hole with lube before pushing one finger inside. She went slowly, teasing him with her touch until he was panting.

“Please. More.” The whispered plea sent a shiver through her. 

Adding another finger, she pushed inside him, quickly finding the spot she was looking for. When her fingers brushed against it, Dean whimpered. She teased him for a few moments before withdrawing her fingers and placing the tip of the plug against his slippery hole. She had chosen a smaller plug, not wanting to overwhelm him in case it was his first time. With the liberal amount of lube, the plug slipped in easily. As it stretched him wider, Dean panted harshly, his hands gripping the smooth wood of the cross to ground himself. When it slid in all the way, his muscle gripping the neck, the base snugly against his skin, he let out a soft grunt. 

She kissed between his shoulder blades, whispering praise, “You’re so good for me, baby, taking that plug like a champ. Such a good boy.”

With a light pat on his ass, she stepped away to wipe her hands on a towel before grabbing her implement of choice from where it hung on the wall. Dean’s eyes followed her, watching her take the strap off its hook. When she turned, their eyes met briefly. Once out of his sight again, she wondered if Dean felt the connection as deeply as she did.

“Count for me.” The husky tone of her voice sent a visible shiver through Dean.

The counting was just another way for him to feel that she was the one in control. After only a few strokes, she all but tuned it out, only registering enough to keep track of if he made a mistake. Her focus was on his body, and the strap painting broad red marks on his skin. Like brush strokes on a canvas. The feeling of the strap connecting with his flesh. The sounds she drew from him. All of it combined to make her feel like she was floating on a sea of pleasure. 

She lost track of time. All that existed were sensations. The sound of the leather strap connecting with Dean’s skin. It punctuated the symphony of moans, sobs, and whimpers falling from Dean’s lips. He still managed to keep count. The feeling of the leather in her hand. The smell of sweat filling the air in the small room. The sight of his hands, knuckles white, gripping the beams of the cross.

The sound of the last stroke still hung in the air when she tossed the strap onto the table. Peripherally, she registered his strained voice, hoarse now, mumbling “Forty-three”, and she felt proud of him for enduring it all. 

Dean flinched when her fingers made contact with his skin. It was only a feather-light brush of fingertips over heated flesh. With her eyes closed, she read the welts on his back like braille, reveling in the memory of each one. 

Slowly, Dean’s breath slowed and evened out, apart from the occasional hitch of a sob. Her lips brushed his welted skin. Moving around him, she looked up at his face. Her hands cradled it, thumbs gently swiping tears away. Stretching to reach, she kissed him, feeling him responding almost immediately. 

When she pulled away, his eyes were open, looking into hers. Tear-wet lashes framed the dark green beautifully. Her hands caressed his face and she smiled up at him.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Her voice held the promise of pleasure to come. Dean visibly shivered with anticipation.


End file.
